


i'll let you throw it down (hit the back)

by plainjane8



Series: on your knees (when you look at me) [4]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Rope Bondage, Under-negotiated Kink, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plainjane8/pseuds/plainjane8
Summary: Brad’s flight gets in to Oceanside on a Sunday afternoon. It’s been days—days? Maybe weeks?—since he slept last and he almost bumps into Ray’s truck while walking up his driveway on his way into the house.The bumper looks ready to rust right off and the tires are balding. It is, without a doubt, Ray’s truck.Despite the truck lingering in the driveway, looking altogether like it belongs there, Ray doesn’t seem to be in the house. At home.
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Series: on your knees (when you look at me) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739812
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	i'll let you throw it down (hit the back)

**Author's Note:**

> And here we finally have the porn.
> 
> PSA-Sex, cuddling and personal epiphanies should not replace kink negotiations in real life. Also safe words, consent and safe play are legit and important. Just because my fictional characters suck at communication doesn't mean you should too.
> 
> That being said, sorry this took forever.

Brad’s flight gets in to Oceanside on a Sunday afternoon. It’s been days—days? Maybe weeks?—since he slept last and he almost bumps into Ray’s truck while walking up his driveway on his way into the house.

The bumper looks ready to rust right off and the tires are balding. It is, without a doubt, Ray’s truck.

Despite the truck lingering in the driveway, looking altogether like it belongs there, Ray doesn’t seem to be in the house. At home.

Brad dumps his bags in the hall—there’s only so many things he can tackle at once and like hell if unpacking doesn’t belong at the bottom of that list.

He has to bend down to unlace his boots before they are lined up next to his bags. Another problem for later.

Brad slips into the shower, twisting the knob as hot as he can bear and hoping it’s enough. It feels like he has sand for skin these days.

Ray’s belongings are littered across the bedroom—Brad’s bedroom—but he still hasn’t made an appearance by the time Brad finishes showering. He slips into some running shorts while he surveys the room.

It’s not quite messy, but it’s different than it ever looks when Brad’s home. It looks lived in. There’s a second phone charger dangling off the edge of the nightstand next to an empty cup. There are mismatched socks by the side of the bed and a portable speaker on top of the dresser. It’s a little weird. And a whole lot not weird at all. It’s all too easy to picture Ray in here, charging his phone or slipping off his socks or dancing to some god-awful music blasting out of the tiny speaker.

Brad doesn’t look any further. Doesn’t wonder where Ray is, or if he’s coming back, or if he’s gone now and these are the things he left behind. The things he didn’t even care enough to come back for.

Brad crawls into bed and he doesn’t move any of Ray’s things and he absolutely doesn’t wonder where Ray is while he waits the three and a half minutes before sleep finally takes him.

⫸⫸⫸

When Brad wakes, the bedroom is several shades darker and he immediately knows that he isn’t alone.

He tries for “what?” but with his face mashed into a pillow, it doesn’t come out quite right.

“Shit homes, I was trying to be quiet. I just need to grab a spare pillow.”

Brad doesn’t turn to looking up at him but he knows. He just knows Ray is standing over him, assessing which pillow he can steal that will annoy Brad most without actually getting himself into trouble.

Brad’s hand shoots out and grabs Ray’s wrist on the first try. He rolls his face a little to get the pillow out of his mouth.

“Kill the fucking lights and come to bed Ray. Don’t make me ask twice.”

Brad gives Ray’s wrist a little squeeze before dropping it so Ray can walk to the hall and give the light switch a satisfying click.

Ray immediately starts ranting, something about the indignity of having to take orders when he’s been out for months.

Brad slips back into sleep before Ray even makes it into the bed.

⫸⫸⫸

The next time he wakes, the clock tells him it’s midafternoon and Ray’s drooling behind him. There’s a puddle of half dried drool on Brad’s shoulder that makes it clear that Ray definitely hasn’t been staying on his side of the bed.

Brad drags himself out of bed feeling like he could spend the next three weeks asleep and it still wouldn’t be enough. There’s a persistent bone-deep exhaustion he can feel in his face and the muscle of his jaw. As if even his head is too tired to hold itself up.

He’s two-thirds of the way through a cup of coffee when Ray stumbles into the kitchen looking irritating well-rested.

He pours himself a cup and sits across the counter from Brad before he speaks.

“Should I welcome you home if it’s actually your house?”

“Oh wow Ray, you’re willing to admit it’s still mine? You haven’t taken over entirely. Let me guess, you finally got a tax bill in the mail huh? It’s my house once it starts getting expensive? Is that how it works?”

Ray’s grinning at him over the steam of his coffee and Brad can’t help but grin back.

“Daddy’s home!”

⫸⫸⫸

The rest of the morning is quiet and domestic in a vaguely unusual way. Brad is used to being around his guys—whether that’s Bravo or RM—but he’s not used to his own house. Not used to the little changes Ray has made, not used to the extra set of car keys hanging by the door or the extra shoes scattered by the wall on the deck.

It’s a little like waking up in someone else’s hotel room. His house normally feels a bit empty and clinical for all the time he doesn’t spend there. But now. Now Ray has left enough touches of himself and his belongings to make it clear. This is an inhabited space. Someone lives here. Even if it isn’t Brad.

So, it’s a little weird. A little domestic and a little weird. Ray moves around the house with the same air of constant comfort. Brad thinks that the jut of Ray’s jaw and the splay of his legs would look the same in the Humvee or in a church or in a bar as they do on a lawn chair in Brad’s backyard, his third cup of coffee balanced on his knee.

They make it through breakfast and two coffees before Ray brings it up and Brad’s frankly impressed that he managed to wait that long.

“Bradleyyyyy.” It comes out a little too high pitched and whiny and Brad just raises an eyebrow from his lawn chair in the backyard. He wishes he’d brought his cell phone out with him. Just for the opportunity for a distraction.

He levels a look at Ray and waits him out. It’s only a matter of time now.

“Brad.”

There’s a hard set to Ray’s jaw that Brad doesn’t see often and it’s immediately concerning.

“Jesus Ray, since when have you had this much restraint? Spit it out already.”

Brad already knows what coming. He’s reaching out with an empty palm to take his house key back before Ray even opens his mouth.

“What the fuck are you reaching for homes?” Ray swats his hand away and his fingers feel too hot from where they’ve been curled around his coffee, “You can play grab ass when we’re done talking, damnnn.”

“Oh, I can play grab ass later? Like you didn’t drool on me all fucking night. I’m shocked that you finally grew out of bed wetting.”

The banter is automatic, the insults just tumble out of Brad’s mouth before he can think better of it. In the end it doesn’t matter, Ray’s grinning like an idiot. As usual.

“Fuckin’ hell Brad. Can you keep your disparaging comments to yourself for a minute? I’m trying to channel my inner Dr. Phil here!”

Brad has to actually bite his tongue to overcome the urge to ask Ray if he can even spell disparaging.

“I want to stay.”

It’s not what Brad was expecting, not something he’d even dared to hope for. He never had a plan with Ray, never bothered to hope that this would go one way or the other. Brad’s a warrior and he prefers to live the life of one.

Brad doesn’t speak and from the way Ray pauses, it seems like he was supposed to.

“I want to stay. But that’s not all I want.”

Ray looks at him from his chair and his face is loose and open, eyebrow quirked with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks like he already knows that he’ll get what he wants.

There’s so many things Brad’s supposed to say now. Like how they should talk about this more, like how he’s still not really sure what Ray wants, not _really_. He should remind Ray that things like this usually involve special acronyms and negotiations. He should remind Ray that even if he’s here now, there’s no telling how long he’ll be stateside, not _really_.

Brad can feel his jaw clenching while he tries to work out a response.

As always, Ray beats him to it.

“Shit Brad, you don’t need to cook your brains thinkin’ that hard. Either you’re in or you’re not.”

It’s the first time that Brad’s seen Ray look so unsure and Brad hates every second of it.

“Ray- shit Ray. You know it’s not that simple.”

Any minute now, Ray’s going to say something stupid and Brad’s going to shatter the mug in his hands.

Ray sighs and it sounds dramatic and put-on.

“Fuckin’ hell Bradley. Not everything has to be life or death. Sometimes things can just be. I don’t know what all that tea and crumpets have been doing to your brain so I’m gonna make this real simple. If you’re in, I say we going inside and get things going. If you don’t then gimme the rest of the day to clear my shit out and I’ll be outta your hair, no prob.”

Brad almost wants to laugh, “Get things going? Really Ray? Why don’t you just tell me what you want?”

Brad almost wants to laugh but his stomach feels like it’s dropped six inches lower than it’s supposed to sit. He’s absolutely certain that his hands aren’t shaking but he can practically taste the adrenaline in his teeth.

Ray runs a hand through his hair like a nervous tic but when he looks back up at Brad, it’s combat-steady.

“I want you to ruin me.”

It feels like, for just a moment, everything stops. The cars from the highway nearby fade away, the breeze stops blowing, the sounds of Brad’s neighbor mowing his lawn stop, the bicycle bells of the kids across the street dwindle in volume. And everything just stops.

Ray grins again, so full it looks like he’s in danger of cracking his jaw.

And everything just comes roaring back.

Brad leans in and pulls the coffee right out of Ray’s hand and ignores the indignant squawk.

“You’re going to go inside, get whatever you wanted to be restrained with, get whatever you need right in your head and then you’re going to wait for me in the bedroom. Quietly. You have until I finish these coffees.”

“I can’t even finish the rest of my coffee?”

Brad takes a gulp of Ray’s coffee, “The clock’s ticking Ray.”

Ray heads into the house without another word and Brad tips the dregs of Ray’s coffee into his own cup. He doesn’t know if it’s better to drink quickly and catch Ray before he’s ready or whether he should linger and make him wait.

In the end, Brad wastes so much time trying to decide that the decision is made for him.

He finished the coffee that has long since cooled off and he heads in to leave the mugs in the kitchen. He pauses for a moment there to try to think ahead. He already told Ray to get whatever restraint he prefers but the urge to dig up something else as a back up itches at Brad like a new tattoo.

Fingers tight on the countertop, he decides against it. If Ray can’t follow instructions, there’s no reason Brad should make it easier for him.

Brad finds Ray in the bedroom, waiting like he’s supposed to be but that’s about the only thing that goes as expected.

Instead of kneeling on the carpet by the bed like Brad had expected, Ray is sprawled on the bed, naked and looking far too smug. There’s a long coil of unfamiliar but soft looking black rope next to Ray’s hip. Ray’s hard and there’s a bright flush painted across his chest.

Brad bites down on his tongue and tries not to twitch.

“I don’t remember these being part of your instructions?” Brad frames it like a question but they both know better.

“Wellllll,” Ray drags the word out and Brad already knows he’s in trouble. He’s been in trouble since the first time he reached out and Ray didn’t shrug him off. “You didn’t say that I _couldn’t_ get comfy. So.”

Ray shrugs, casual. Like he isn’t just laying there, dick leaking a little onto his stomach on Brad’s bed, just waiting to be tied up.

Brad palms itch. He starts towards the bed and stops halfway there.

“If you want out…” This is why they were supposed to talk about this. Brad knows enough to know that much.

Ray rolls his eyes and lolls his head back onto Brad’s pillows. “If I want out, I’ll tell you. Now quick dicking around and get on with it. I can’t tie this shit myself.”

Brad’s standing next to Ray before he knows it with a hand on his shoulder, pulling up to sit. In a dramatic sweep that makes Ray snort, he swipes all the pillows off the bed onto the floor.

“You good on your back?”

“Yeah homes, I’m _good any way._ ” Ray leers and Brad tries desperately not to find it painfully attractive. A leering, naked Ray is not going to help this any.

“I thought you were told to wait quietly? Do I need to find a gag?”

Brad can practically feel Ray’s shudder in his own bones and for a moment, the room is blissfully—painfully—silent.

“Ray?”

When Ray meets his eyes, the flush on his chest has spread to his cheeks.

“Yes.” He stops to clear his throat, “Fuck, yeah. Please, Brad.”

Brad’s already hard in his shorts and he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through this.

“Ray. Fuck, okay Ray. Let me see what I have. But if you want out—”

_Fuck_.

He didn’t think this through. It’s never been like this before. It’s always been simple and quick, if Ray wanted out, he could’ve just squirmed enough or asked Brad.

Ray interrupts before he can ahead of himself too much.

“You’re gonna tie me to the headboard, right?”

That hadn’t been the original plan. Not even close. Brad thought Ray would want to kneel by the bed, hands bound with his knees on the carpet. But the thought of Ray stretched across the bed—gagged and _hard_ —is not an option that Brad is going to pass up.

“Yeah.”

“Okay so if I need, I’ll just knock on the headboard. You’ll hear it.”

Brad raises an eyebrow at Ray’s dubious plan, “You’ll knock on the headboard?”

“Yeah homes, here listen!” He scoots higher up towards the top of the bed and Brad’s fist clenches when Ray’s dick bobs with the movement.

Ray raps twice on the wooden headboard, solid and sharp, “You’ll hear that for sure. For sure homes.”

Brad’s leaning in with the rope Ray has chosen, weaving and knotting it around the headboard and Ray’s wrists before he can think better of it.

“Can you still knock?”

Ray intertwines his hands, fingers slotting into the gaps of his opposite hands and then he rocks both wrists to knock on the bed. It’s not quite as loud and it doesn’t look terribly comfortable.

“Are you sure that’s gonna work Ray?”

“Fuckin’ shit Brad. I never woulda bagged you as Consent Cindy. It’s fuckin’ fine.”

Brad takes a step back, “Okay. Alright. I’m just gonna grab something. You good?”

Brad watches as Ray tugs a little against the rope, testing its hold. It holds tight and the muscles in his arms tense and he tugs harder. When the rope doesn’t budge, Ray’s arms go loose.

He nods up at Brad, “Yeah I’m good, don’t go too far.”

Brad leaves the side of the bed and ends up having to go all the way out to the laundry closet by the garage to find a clean bandana. He practically jogs back to the bedroom.

He finds that Ray has slid—practically _melted_ —down the bed so his arms are stretched up towards the headboard and his back is now flat on the bed. He’s flushed pink from his nipples to the tips of his ears and Brad’s not sure if he’s ever, ever wanted something so much.

“This—” Brad actually has to stop and clear his throat when Ray turns his head to look at him, “This is the best I’ve got on short notice. If it doesn’t work or you need something else, you need to tell me. _Now_.”

Ray just nods and pants a little, “Fuck, Brad. Put it on me before I say some real whiskey-tango pussy shit.”

Brad gets the bandana slipped between Ray’s teeth and tied loosely behind his head. He can practically feel the warmth of Ray’s skin as he knots the ends together. When he finishes, he sits back towards the foot of the bed and just looks.

Looks as Ray’s eyes close and his head drops back onto the sheets below. Ray’s flushed chest has gotten even brighter, almost resembling a fresh sunburn now and he’s even harder than before, still leaking onto the right side of his abdomen.

Brad doesn’t know if he can watch. He can’t just leave Ray like this—he can’t bear to look away—but he doesn’t know if he can keep watching.

“Ray. Ray, I’m gonna touch you. If that’s not okay, you need to knock or find a way to tell me. _Right now._ ”

When Brad looks up from where his gaze had gotten a bit stuck on the curve of Ray’s left hipbone, Ray’s eyes are open—watching him—and he’s nodding enthusiastically. His eyes slam shut again before Brad even has a chance to lean in.

Brad moves down the bed to Ray’s feet and lifts the left one. It’s cleaner than Brad expected and when he licks a stripe from Ray’s heel to the ball of his foot, he watches Ray’s toes curl.

Ray’s nodding again in an exaggerated way that makes him look like a bobble-head toy. A caricature of himself.

Brad licks a stripe down Ray’s right foot this time, starting between his toes and ending with a bite to the heel of Ray’s foot. When Brad’s teeth meet skin, they both tremble.

And _oh._ How had Brad—how could he have not realized?

He immediately tests his theory by setting his teeth to the meat of Ray’s left calf muscle, pushing Ray’s right leg out of the way to get to it. He opens his mouth and just sets his teeth against the fine hairs on the skin of Ray’s leg.

When Brad shoots his eyes up to Ray’s face to check, Ray’s nodding again. He’s panting against the bandana and Brad wont’t be surprised if it’s covered in drool later. Ray’s pulling his wrists against the ropes a little too hard but he’s breathing hard through his nose and he’s still nodding.

So, Brad sinks his teeth in.

He grips Ray’s leg at the knee and ankle, wary of Ray flinching away and Brad biting too hard. But.

But Ray doesn’t flinch away.

Brad sinks his teeth into Ray’s left calf and Ray just dissolves. Like cotton candy in water, like butter on a summer afternoon.

Brad bites down and Ray melts.

And for one blinding, bone-aching moment, Brad is stupidly grateful that he never knew. So, so thankful that he never had to fly back to Iraq knowing what Ray’s skin tastes like.

Brad switches over to Ray’s right knee, sucking at the skin over the bone. Wondering how hard he’d have to suck and how much he’d have to nibble to leave a bruise. He’s so lost in thinking about it that his next bite to Ray’s thigh is too hard, way too hard.

Hard enough that Ray actually flinches and Brad’s pulling away quick, teeth catching on skin.

“Fuck, sorry. Sorry, too hard?”

But Ray’s already shaking his head, left to right. He’s pulling at the ropes and it looks like his eyes might be watering.

“It’s okay? It’s good?”

Ray’s nodding, clear and distinct.

“Okay, you remember you can knock if you need? Got it?”

Brad waits for a nod of affirmation before he leans down again. This time he leaves a trail of sharp nips from Ray’s knee all the way up to the jut of the hipbone Brad had been eyeing earlier.

Ray’s wiggling now, just enough to throw of Brad’s aim so he gets a hand tight on Ray’s hip and pushes down firmly. Brad can hear Ray make some kind of noise, wet and sharp, through the gag and if Ray hadn’t wanted it so bad, Brad would rip the bandana right out of his mouth. Just to hear the sounds careening out of Ray.

Brad bites at the skin just to the left of Ray’s hipbone and Ray’s hips jut and arch off the bed almost immediately.

Brad worries at the skin in his mouth, licking and biting at the same spot as long as he can bear. As long as Ray can bear. The wet tip of Ray’s dick bumps his cheek and Ray jolts up from the bed again.

When Brad looks up, Ray’s looking down with wet, red eyes. He’s still flushed, still looks like he’s panting and drooling and _fuck_. Ray watches as Brad pulls a hand off of Ray to palm himself over his shorts, squeezing tight at the base.

“ _Fuck. Fuck, Ray_. You still good?”

Ray’s nodding with his eyes closed this time and Brad’s not sure how much more he can take. How much more either of them can take.

Brad skips over Ray’s dick entirely on his quest to map Ray’s skin with his teeth. Just ignores it entirely, knowing he’d be catching hell if Ray wasn’t gagged.

He licks a line across Ray’s belly, licks up the drops that have leaked from Ray’s dick. He licks back and forth all he can taste is his own saliva. Ray arching up every few seconds now, panting through the bandana and there’s a few tears leaking out of his eyes.

Brad is so stupidly hard and he wants to pin Ray’s hips down and rock them together. He wants to bite, and bite, and bite until Ray screams.

Instead, he licks and nibbles his way up Ray’s abdomen and chest. Up and over until he finds Ray’s nipple.

His teeth close on Ray’s nipple and then Ray’s bucking his hip, wild and uncontrollable and _fuck_.

_Fuck._ Ray’s coming. Just like that. Untouched and covered in Brad’s saliva. Spilling hot and wet across his own abdomen, splattering up onto Brad’s t-shirt. Ray’s shaking and his eyes are still leaking and Brad just keeps biting at his nipple, harder and harder until Ray’s kicking at his back.

“ _Fuck._ Ray, what? What’s wrong? You good?”

Ray thrashing his head around a bit, not quite nodding and not quite shaking his head. He turns his head and rubs his mouth against his shoulder, dragging the gag against his cheek until Brad’s leaning up to pull it out of his mouth and down under his chin.

“ _Fuck,_ Brad, _fuck_. Fuck my mouth. Please, fucking hell. Please fuck my mouth.”

“Ray—”

“Fuck Brad, I know you’re supposed to be calling the shots, but would you shut the fuck up and get on me?”

That earns Ray a sharp bite to the shoulder before Brad’s pulling away, discarding his shirt and shorts.

“You want it like that or you need to be untied?”

“No, fuck Brad. I’m good. I’m good. Fucking get over here.”

Brad ignores Ray’s response and fishes a pillow off of the floor. Ray doesn’t need to be untied but it won’t do either of them any good if he suffocates flat on his back like that.

“Oh fuck you homes, I don’t need a fucking pillow.” But he’s lifting his head anyway to allow Brad to slip the pillow behind him, propping up his head and shoulders just enough to make Brad feel better.

“Listen,” and Brad’s climbing over Ray to straddle his chest before he can stop himself, “don’t forget to fucking knock if you need to. You got it?”

And Brad’s pressing Ray’s knuckles to the headboard like a reminder.

“Jesuuuus, Brad. I fuckin’ got it.”

Brad’s toes are curled into the sheets on either sides of Ray’s chest and he’s desperately trying not to sit too much of his weight down on him but the hairs on his chest are tickling the underside of Brad’s balls and _fuck_. It’s a lot.

It’s a lot and Brad’s curling a fist into the hair at the back of Ray’s head.

“Last chance Ray. Anything you need?”

Ray just smiles up at him, eyes still wet, mouth looking far too red and wet to be legal, “I need you fucking my mouth. Now.”

Brad rolls his eyes but then he’s sliding between Ray’s lips and he thinks he goes a little cross-eyed in the process.

Everything about Ray is warm and loose. He’s not pulling against the rope anymore and he doesn’t lean his head in or back. He just curls his tongue around the head of Brad’s dick and let’s Brad go wild.

Brad hunches over and slips his free hand down past his own thigh to rest on Ray’s throat. He feels Ray’s Adam’s apple bob when he bottoms out and Ray swallows. They both shiver.

“Fuck Ray, if I had known—Fuck, it’s like you’re made for this. If I—”

Ray’s eyes are closed but they’re leaking tears again and his cheeks are hollowed out and Brad knows. He just knows he won’t last. After months with only his hands for company, the sight of Ray covered in saliva and bruises—his saliva and bruises—it’s _way too much_.

Brad’s thrusting in now, short and quick and Ray’s just letting him. Wet and almost too hot mouth wide open for him. Brad’s fist is tightening in Ray’s hair and then it’s just like a soap bubble popping. He’s tripping over, tripping over himself and spilling into Ray’s throat.

“Fuck, fuck Ray.” Brad’s still shivering a little, like his bones are going to vibrate out of his skin, “Ray if you don’t want to swallow you need to knock _now._ ”

And except for Brad’s breath—which sounds infinitely too loud in his own ears—and the gentle spatter when a string of saliva slips from Ray’s chin down to his chest, the room is ecstatically and notably silent.

And then Ray’s swallowing and swallowing and coughing a little while Brad pulls out.

⫸⫸⫸

They end up napping almost as soon as Brad gets Ray untied and Ray starfishes, face down in the middle of the bed. Brad nudges him out of the middle, snatches another pillow off the floor and then he’s asleep before he has the chance to think better of it.

Brad wakes up with Ray in his lap, sleep-warm and still naked. Ray pokes at his face until Brad opens his eyes to find Ray leaning in, almost too close to see.

“Just let it happen, homes.”

And then Ray’s leaning in the rest of the way, chewing at Brad’s lips until they part and then he’s all tongue, wet and warm.

Ray tastes like morning breath and come and a little like Doritos and all Brad can think is _oh, yeah okay._

They kiss a while longer, noses bumping and tongues tangling until Ray pulls back and nips at Brad’s earlobe. And then he’s sneaking his tongue into Brad’s ear in some bastardized version of a wet-willy.

Brad shoves him off and Ray’s cackling and _yeah, Brad fucking gets it._

“I’m not gonna go all emo-shit on you, homes. But maybe before you leave again you can see about getting me a collar?”


End file.
